


Unable to Stop this Thing

by GenesisHardy



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers Compound, Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Canonical Character Death, Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Christmas Eve, Christmas Morning, Civil War Team Captain America, Depression, Developing Friendships, F/M, Headcanon, Implied/Referenced Character Death, International Fanworks Day 2021, Melancholy, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Civil War (Marvel), Pre-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Protective Steve Rogers, Romantic Friendship, Sad with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Sokovia (Marvel), Survivor Guilt, The Raft Prison (Marvel), Trauma, Wakanda (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:00:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28083576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GenesisHardy/pseuds/GenesisHardy
Summary: It wasn't love at first sight. For Steve Rogers and Wanda Maximoff, it was more a realization that they'd found someone with shared life experience.The story of how Wanda and Steve met, became friends, and eventually fell in love. This takes place from Age of Ultron through Endgame, and though it mostly follows what is canon, there are some small changes.
Relationships: Wanda Maximoff & Steve Rogers, Wanda Maximoff/Steve Rogers
Comments: 37
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's not an extremely popular pairing, but I've always thought Steve and Wanda would be perfect together. I love how they start as enemies who understand each other, and gradually become really good friends, so this is my version of what would have happened if the MCU had decided to turn that friendship into a romantic relationship. 
> 
> I don't own anything. All of the characters, locations, etc. belongs to Marvel and Disney.

A soft grey silence fell over Sokovia. Trash blew across the rubble and over the clouds that now surrounded the city. The smell of gunshots clung to burned and broken buildings, and the cold, thin air grew colder and thinner as the city climbed higher. Ultron’s metal army lay in pieces, crushed and scattered among the ruins of everyday life. And underneath it all, a faint cry echoed, angry and heartbroken and afraid. 

Steve Rogers hadn’t seen what happened until it was too late. He hadn’t expected Ultron to commandeer a plane. He hadn’t seen the child hiding in the stairway. He hadn’t heard anything but the rapid fire of gunshots. When he stood up to survey the damage, he saw the young man’s body fall. And he watched as the young woman fell to her knees and cried.

Slowly, reverently, Steve picked up Pietro’s body and brought it to the waiting helicarrier. Pietro’s eyes had clouded over, two blind mirrors reflecting the sky above them. His head hung limply, and his legs swung slightly back and forth to the rhythm of Steve’s own footsteps. After gently laying him down, the soldier placed a blanket over the young man’s body. But the image of Pietro’s empty face remained in Steve’s mind as he looked across the city once more and realized, with her cry still echoing in his ears, that Wanda had not boarded the helicarriers.

He wanted to go back for her, but the city fell before he could step back onto its wartorn ground. With no sound at all, the helicarrier left Sokovia behind in the distance. And once again, Steve took inventory of the damage. Civilians cried at the loss of their home while breathing sighs of relief that they were still breathing. Barton lay next to Pietro, a near mirror image save for the simple fact that one could open his eyes again while the other never would. And far below, a young woman fell amidst ruins of another war.

More exhausted, and lost, and lonely than normal, Steve collapsed on the floor and closed his eyes. But another face overlaid Pietro’s, both falling to the ground below, and the ring of Wanda’s scream echoed that of another.

He hadn’t gone back. Once again, he hadn’t gone back for someone. And once again, he couldn’t help but think that it should have been him who fell, and screamed, and closed his eyes for the last time.

Steve rolled over and took the standard issue alarm clock in his hands; the blood red numbers on its face read 12:07. Sitting up, he threw back the thin, standard issue blanket. His bare feet padded softly against the floor as he walked toward the window and pulled it open. Most of the windows in the Avengers Compound didn’t open. It was a security protocol, and “besides,” Stark argued, “the Compound’s temperature is perfectly controlled. Why would you want to open a window?” But that was the one thing Steve had requested when Stark renovated the building. Everyone else made their rooms a unique expression of themselves, but Steve hadn’t really known what to ask for with the exception of a window that could open. And so his room—filled with standard issue items that the others had all thrown away in favor of something more personalized—was the only one without a thick, bulletproof window that couldn’t open. 

The air was hot and stale, the breeze almost nonexistent. The moon and stars weren’t visible, but Steve wasn’t surprised. They were never visible. Not anymore.

Maybe that’s why he had wanted an old-fashioned window. When he was younger—back when he could still see the moon and the stars in New York’s midnight sky—he and Bucky would climb out onto the fire escape and look up and talk about everything. It was one of the only places where Steve felt normal, not like the scrawny kid who got bullied or the weird friend of the guy who could do anything. But Bucky had fallen, and Steve hadn’t gone back for him, and so instead of becoming a leading scientist or a famous general or even something as normal as a husband, Bucky had become a weapon. And now he was lost again. And the Avengers marched on. And Steve tried to march with them. And no one seemed to understand just how badly Steve needed to find Bucky, not just because he was one of the few people who had always believed in Steve, and not just because he was one of the two people left from Steve’s own time, but because this was Steve’s chance to go back for his friend like he should have seventy years ago. 

Thoughts of Sokovia and old New York lingered in Steve’s mind as he stood and stared at the open training field and the polluted sky. He was supposed to be the leader of the Avengers, but what kind of leader would leave someone behind? What kind of soldier would abandon someone they had sworn to protect? What kind of man wouldn’t go back to save the young woman who had saved his own life on the train earlier that day?

The sun hadn’t yet started to rise when he noticed someone walking from the Compound into the middle of the field. Maybe it was the guilt, or maybe it was the loneliness, or maybe it wasn’t anything in particular that made Steve leave his room, walk out of the compound, and join Wanda on the field. They both quietly acknowledged each other’s presence, but it was another ten minutes before Steve asked, “Couldn’t sleep?”

Wanda shook her head no. After a short pause, she asked, “You?”

Steve mimicked Wanda’s answer, shaking his head and slowly adding, “No, I don’t sleep much anymore.”

Neither Avenger said anything else until the sun had started to outline the trees that bordered the field in a brilliant orange. It was only then that Steve said, “I shouldn’t have left you behind. It’s my fault. And I know it isn’t enough, but I want to apologize.” It was more a statement of fact than anything else. His words held the same tone now as they did when he gave orders. They weren’t devoid of feeling—the apology was sincere. But the sadness within them was so quiet that it might have gone unnoticed had Wanda not been feeling the same subtle melancholy. 

There was a long pause as Wanda tried to formulate a reply. She didn’t know exactly why, but she thought there was more to Steve’s apology than she could understand. It wasn’t really Steve’s fault. She knew that. If he had been given the chance, she had no doubt that he would have gone to find her. If she was being honest, she wasn’t really sure that she had wanted anyone to go back for her. She had spent every minute of her life with her brother, and up until his death, he had only spent 12 minutes of his life without her. How was she supposed to go on without him? Why should she be able to watch the sunrise? Why shouldn’t he be given another day? What made her more worthy? 

But she  _ had _ been considered worthy. Or maybe she had just been considered lucky. Either way, she was here now. And she was brought at least a little peace with the knowledge that her brother could be buried properly instead of being abandoned in the ruined Sokovian battlefield or lost and in pieces after that battlefield exploded. 

“You brought my brother back,” Wanda eventually replied, shifting her eyes from the rising sun to the burdened man beside her. “For that, I’m grateful.”

Neither Wanda nor Steve said anything after that. They just stood by each other and watched the sun rise, both still sad and somewhat lost, but both a little less lonely.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda is alone on Christmas Eve, and she slowly realizes that she'll be alone until the after New Years. When Steve returns to the Compound, however, the two teammates find themselves taking part in each other's long-forgotten holiday traditions. And over the course of the night, both Avengers find themselves less alone in their solitude, realizing that maybe there is someone with shared life experience after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wasn't planning on having a Christmas chapter, but here we are! It's a little rushed, so it's not my best, but I hope it turned out okay! If Steve and Wanda were strangers in chapter 1, this chapter begins to close the gap between them and make their relationship more than just teammates. There's an understanding there, and I wanted both characters to become aware of just how important this other person is to them.  
> I also wanted to say thank you to everyone! You were all extremely kind in regards to chapter 1, and I'll try my hardest not to disappoint you all. If you have any thoughts or constructive criticism, I'd love to hear it!  
> Finally, I don't own these characters or the settings. All of the characters, places, and names belong to Marvel and Disney, and "It's a Wonderful Life" belongs to Frank Capra, NBC, and the studios involved in producing the film.

Wanda Maximoff silently watched the snowflakes blow through the air in intricate somersaults before landing on the frozen ground and the needles of the evergreen trees that bordered the training field. Since she had joined the Avengers, she found herself spending most of her time outside, exploring the fields and woods that surrounded the Compound. It wasn’t that she didn’t get along with the team, and it wasn’t that they didn’t invite her to join in their plans; Wanda had never been good at making friends, and since Pietro’s death, she felt even more isolated. How long was too long to grieve? Was it wrong that she wasn’t ready to move on? Maybe she should try opening up to the team, but a part of her didn’t think any of them could understand. Hugging herself tighter against the cold and the growing pit in her stomach, the young woman closed her eyes and tried to focus only on the small shock of cold as each snowflake fell onto her face.

Only when the sky began to darken did Wanda go back into the Compound. After making herself a mug of hot apple cider, she made her way into the living room, where she turned on the fireplace and plugged in the Christmas tree that the rest of the team set up a week earlier. But despite the soft, multicolored glow, the room still seemed dark and empty. The whole building had gotten progressively darker and emptier as each Avenger left for their respective Christmas and New Years celebrations. Tony left to celebrate with Pepper, inviting Rhodey and Banner along, too. The next day, Thor and Vision (neither of whom celebrated Christmas) decided to go to Asgard—Thor because the holidays always made him homesick, and Vision because Asgard seemed as good a place as any to start learning about the Mind Stone. Clint and Natasha had rushed out the door late the night before in a mad dash to get to the Barton house for Christmas Eve. And even Sam and Steve had left for VA early that morning, planning to volunteer before driving to DC for the Wilson family Christmas and New Year. 

Slowly, Wanda realized that this would be her first Christmas without any of her family. She had never spent the holidays alone, and the growing realization that she’d be by herself in the Compound for almost two weeks nourished the growing pit in her stomach. Though she tried not to think about it, it was impossible not to come back to the thought that, no matter how nostalgic she was for home, she would never get there. She wasn’t sure where home was anymore, much less if it even existed. And no matter how much she missed her family, none of them were coming back. But now the silence was overbearing, and as Wanda thought she would break under its weight, thoughts of childhood Christmases returned. 

“I’ve watched this movie every Christmas since it was first released, and the only way I’m not going to watch it is if I’m dead and buried,” Wanda could hear her Baba say as the elderly woman held up the faded box of her _It’s a Wonderful Life_ VHS tape. Though her mother always put up a fight, Wanda had always loved the movie. And even when tensions rose and wars began, their small family would huddle close together for a perfect two hours and twelve minutes, leaving the rest of the world behind.

Something inside the young woman said it was wrong to watch the movie this year, but her Baba’s voice slowly drowned out all of Wanda’s reservations—she was desperate to fill the silence that hung over the room like a fog. Walking to the team’s shared movie cabinet, she pulled out Steve’s box of old records and movies. If anyone owned the _It’s a Wonderful Life_ , it would be him. Besides, she didn’t think he would mind. As she searched through the Captain’s belongings, she was surprised to find each movie and record in surprisingly good condition, considering most of them were almost 100 years old. And like everything else in his life, Wanda noticed, his box was meticulously organized. It only took a moment to find the correct tape. 

As Wanda prepared to put the movie into the VHS player only Steve used, she heard the sound of the kitchen door opening, followed by the stomp of boots as their occupant knocked off the caked-on snow. She walked toward the noise, her fingertips beginning to glow. Upon seeing the potential intruder, however, the crimson light vanished. “Steve?” 

The soldier looked up at her, as though he hadn’t expected anyone else to be at the Compound. “Hey Wanda,” he replied, his voice heavy and tired and full of something resembling sorrow. “I thought Barton said you were spending Christmas Eve with his family.”

“Yeah. He offered, but I decided not to go,” Wanda said, looking at her shoes. At the time, it had seemed like the right decision. Why should she celebrate Christmas when her brother never would? It was too soon to celebrate anything, too soon to create new memories without him, too soon to smile so big her face hurt or laugh so hard her eyes watered. She knew it was too soon for all of it. But with the VHS still in her hand and her loneliness killing her from the inside, Wanda remained unsure of what she was supposed to do, stuck between the want to move on with life and the guilt of moving on without the people she needed most. What would her brother want her to do?

Steve only nodded at her response, as though he didn’t need to push her on the issue. Maybe he already understood. And although she was sure she knew why he hadn’t gone to Sam’s Christmas celebration, she found herself asking anyway. “What about you? I thought you were going right from the VA to the Wilson’s.”

“Yeah,” Steve echoed Wanda’s previous reply. “I was going to, but… I don’t know.”

Both teammates stood quietly in the dark kitchen, lost in the thoughts they had promised not to think about during the holidays. After a long minute, Steve broke the silence. 

“I think I’m going to go to midnight mass. I used to go every year before…” he trailed off, unwilling to put the thoughts he wasn’t supposed to be thinking into words. “I don’t know if you believe in any of that, but you’re welcome to come with. If you want.” 

Wanda wasn’t sure what she believed anymore. But the alternative was sitting alone with her guilt as the movie’s muffled dialogue echoed around the living room’s haze of gilded lights. And a small part of her hoped that Pietro wouldn’t want her to spend the holiday alone, either. Whether or not that was true, Wanda would never know. Either way, she slowly nodded, and before long, both she and Steve were on their way to the church Steve had attended as a child. 

It was much smaller than she anticipated. She wasn’t exactly sure what she had been expecting, but it definitely wasn’t the worn-down bricks and the slightly yellowed sign, the letters of which hung crookedly. After sitting down near the back of the sanctuary, Wanda noticed that the inside, much like the building’s exterior, was also slightly run down. The kneelers squeaked, the carpet was beginning to tear in a few places, and the pews were somewhat defaced with carved messages and hardened bubblegum. Despite this, the church was nicely decorated with a small, simple tree, a hand-carved nativity scene, and dozens of dark red poinsettias. 

Wanda watched as a few elderly people shuffled in towards the front row, and when the mass began, she counted only a handful of people total. She half-listened, finding her attention pulled more towards the architecture, and the snow that fell outside the stained glass windows. Primarily, however, she found herself studying the man beside her. Under the soft glow of the church lights, the circles under his eyes became more pronounced. His shoulders, normally square and at attention, strained beneath an invisible weight, and his voice, usually steady and in control, was tired and hoarse and almost unsure. And she had never noticed the small wrinkles surrounding his eyes or the few grey hairs near his ears. When he returned after receiving Communion, she watched him bow his head lower and clasp his hands tighter and soften his eyes just a little, as though he had found some refuge against the thoughts that constantly plagued him.

Neither Steve nor Wanda spoke much on the drive back to the Compound, lost instead in thoughts about the past, and the future, and the snow-covered road in front of them. The wind had grown colder and stronger, sending gusts of snowflakes into the headlights’ dim glow. The streetlights grew more sparse as the roads back to the Compound became less and less traveled, and as the city faded behind them, the fields in front of them stretched out farther. Both Steve and Wanda began to believe they were the only two people awake, and both were grateful for the other’s company. It was easy to get lost in the darkness, but at least now they weren’t alone in it.

Eventually, Steve pulled onto the road that bordered the training field where they had stood during Wanda’s first night as an Avenger. He slowly drove the car forward and into the garage, but after turning the car off, he didn’t move to get out. He could feel Wanda looking at him, unsure of what to say or whether she should say something at all. If anything, he should be the one to talk. After all, it had been his idea to go to midnight mass. She had just been kind enough to go along with him.

“Thank you for coming with me,” he started. Unclenching his hands from the steering wheel but still unable to meet her gaze, he tried to find the right words. “Bucky, my mom, and I used to go every Christmas before she passed away. And when the war started, well… I guess it’s just been hard since DC. You know, knowing he’s out there, but also knowing it’s never going to be like it was.” He sighed. “I’ve been lonely for a long time, but these last few months, I’ve just….” Pausing, Steve slowly became aware that he was saying more than he had to anyone else not just since DC but since he’d been taken out of the ice. He was also aware that however lonely he felt, the woman beside him must have felt it even moreso. As Steve looked into Wanda’s eyes for the first time since their car ride began, he said, “I’m sorry, it’s not even a comparison. I just needed you to know how thankful I am that you’re here.”

The young woman held his gaze before nodding and pulling back into her own thoughts. In the silence that followed, Steve wondered if she knew how much he had begun to depend on her. Even when he’d first met her, it was just instinct to trust her. _Can you stop this thing_ , he’d asked, but he’d already known the answer. And that night, in the field, she hadn’t excused his actions or brushed them off in the name of the greater good. She’d let him take responsibility. She’d shown him what he could only call grace or empathy, rather than pity, and for that, he was grateful. And even now, she didn’t question him or push him on any of it. She accepted both what was said and what was unsaid. She understood the gut-gnawing solitude, and the endless loop of what-ifs, and the guilt at having to continue forward with life when everything inside said it was too soon to move on.

“You know, my family watched _It’s a Wonderful Life_ every Christmas Eve. I was debating whether or not I should watch it this year. Actually, I was about to start your tape when I heard you come in. You could watch it with me” Wanda offered. “If you want.”

Steve slowly nodded, and soon the two teammates were sitting in the living room. “You know, this movie was actually released a couple years after I went in the ice,” Steve said as the movie began.

“Really?”

“Yeah. This is going to sound so stupid, but I actually looked for a VHS tape of it rather than the DVD.” He sat down on the couch next to Wanda, looking down at his folded hands, ashamed.

“I don’t think that’s stupid,” Wanda replied. And while the opening credits played, both Avengers looked at each other and started to smile.

Although Steve and Wanda sat quietly as the movie played, it was not the soul-aching silence Wanda had begged to escape from only a few hours before. Very few words had been spoken, but an understanding had been reached—very few words needed to be spoken, so why say any more? 

_“What’d you wish, Mary?”_

Even so, Wanda couldn’t help but say, “This has always been my favorite scene.” She didn’t say that it had also been her Baba’s favorite scene, and every year the old woman would shout for everyone to be quiet. She would stare at the screen with tears in her eyes, and without fail, she would say, “You know, your grandpa told me he’d get me the moon. He died not long before your mama was born.” Then she would go silent for the remainder of the film, and no one else had the heart to say anything either. Pietro usually stopped paying attention, and Wanda’s parents, when they’d still been alive, would go into the other room to cook dinner. But like her grandmother, Wanda would get lost in the rest of the movie.

She supposed she had been a romantic all those years ago. And as the scene played now, Wanda wondered if she still was. Pietro had always said she and her Baba were alike in that way. “You get lost in so many other people’s lives. Don’t forget to live your own,” he had told her on more than one occasion. 

_“What do you want? You… You want the moon? Just say the word, and I’ll throw a lasso around it, and pull it down. Hey, that’s a pretty good idea. I’ll give you the moon, Mary.”_

Wanda suddenly became aware of just how close Steve’s hand was to her own. She noticed how the lights in the room formed a dim halo, outlining his bulky form. Though his eyes were a darker shade of blue than she remembered, they still held the same weight and sorrow and nostalgia they did on the first day she met him. But as he turned to look at her, the weight on his shoulders seemed to lessen, the sorrow dissolve, and the nostalgia be forgotten. Smiling back, she wondered if Steve was just as big a romantic as she was, and if he felt the air between them change, too. But maybe she was imagining things again.

Neither said much when the movie ended, save for some small talk about how much they each loved the movie and did they remember to lock the doors. By now, it was early morning, but the sun hadn’t yet risen. Though they would only get a few hours of sleep, Wanda and Steve both headed for their rooms, which were right across the hallway from each other.

Steve looked back with a small, but genuine smile. “Merry Christmas, Wanda.”

Turning to look at him, Wanda replied, “Merry Christmas, Steve.” She smiled back before slowly closing her bedroom door, her loneliness forgotten in the hallway.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Wanda both grapple with the events that took place in Lagos, Nigeria and with the Sokovia Accords. This takes place the night of Ross' visit and the Avengers team meeting (during Civil War).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 is finally here! Sorry it took me so long—things have been crazy! Just a few things: I think Steve is a good leader, but I also think he'd be having some doubts right about now when everything is crumbling. He's lost Peggy, he hasn't found Bucky, everyone else from his old life is dead, and his new family is breaking apart. So heads up, it's kind of sad. But on a positive note, Wanda and Steve both know now that they can absolutely rely on each other. Wanda isn't replacing Peggy as the person Steve looks to for answers, and Steve isn't replacing Pietro as the person Wanda looks to. It's less replacing and more just finding another person they can rely on. If that makes sense.  
> As always, thank you so much for reading and for commenting! I think I'll do one more chapter that takes place during Civil War, so there might be one more sad chapter, but I promise we will get to happy things eventually!  
> I don't own anything. All of the characters, settings, etc. belong to Disney and Marvel.

The soft click of Rumlow’s bomb rang loudly in Steve’s ears, distorting the chaos of the marketplace and suspending him in a space between life and death.

The first thing he heard were his own words, words he said to Tony only a few years earlier: “You’d better stop pretending to be a hero.” In the yellow burst slowly expanding before him, Steve saw himself sitting in the rubble of a bar, Peggy Carter beside him. Although she said it wasn’t his fault, he knew it wasn’t true. Everyone knew. 

And then the bar was gone, and Steve saw Washington DC in the distance, burning. Even now, in the scorching Nigerian heat, the feel of his cold, clammy uniform clung to him. He hadn’t stopped Hydra. And instead of ending it like he had vowed to do after Bucky’s fall, it had grown and spread and infected one of the only connections Steve still had to Peggy. It lingered on, leaving Wanda without a brother, abandoning Bucky with a shattered self, and now killing Steve with a soft click and a yellow light.

“Ahh, Captain America,” Ultron said, “pretending you can live without a war.” The truth of these words had never been lost on Steve. Even as he heard himself telling Tony that he wasn’t that guy anymore, that the Compound was home, he knew it was a lie. For so long, he had been a soldier. He followed orders, and then he gave the orders, and then after seventy-five years in the ice, he continued to give the orders because it was familiar. It was comfortable. And though the doubts about this work and this life lived in the back of his mind, he pushed on because it was what he’d always done. 

“We can go home,” he heard Peggy say as he pulled her into his arms, a red haze still clinging to the sides of the ballroom. And then images of Barton’s farm appeared in the yellow glow. He felt his hands tightening on the old tree stump as Tony yelled, “Isn’t that the mission? Isn’t that the  _ why _ we fight? So we can end the fight? So we get to go home?”

But those images vanished, and the yellow light became a sunrise. Wanda appeared beside him, just as lonely and ashamed. But instead of hearing her empathetic response, Steve only heard her scream reaching over the fields and through the trees. 

And then there was a moment of nothing. Just silence, and a yellow sunburst blooming before his eyes.

The night air was humid, almost suffocating. The stars were nearly invisible against the light from the distant city, and the new moon hid itself from view. Cicadas and crickets harmonized with each other, their songs drifting across the grounds and over the roof of the Avengers Compound. Though the building’s outdoor lights illuminated the concrete patio and the gravel path, the majority of the training field was left in shadow. 

With the building always on his left, Steve jogged around the Compound, his feet pounding against the path in a steady rhythm. He watched aimlessly as his surroundings passed by in the same, repetitive pattern. First the shed, then the road leading to the garage. The barracks—that wasn’t the building’s official name, but Steve couldn’t shake the term he’d learned during the war—appeared next, all of its occupants sound asleep. And as he rounded the corner towards the front of the Compound, he saw the circle of trees under which Pietro lay. Finally, he passed the field where he and Wanda trained every day, and as he turned the next corner, the shed came into view once again.

Steve didn’t know how long he’d been running. He was sure it was long after midnight, but he didn’t bother to check his watch. What was the point? He wasn’t ready to stop. 

To be honest, Steve wasn’t sure why he was running at all. He’d never run from his problems; it was one of the few things he liked about himself. Besides, he couldn’t run from any of it even if he tried. Rumlow’s words still echoed in his ears, smoke and dust still clung to his throat, and the weight of innocent bodies still lay heavy in his arms. And as the circle of trees passed again on his right, the fear and sorrow in Wanda’s eyes lingered in his mind. 

_ All I got was you. You are not enough. _

Even with all his training, Steve had failed. He’d gotten too comfortable, too confident. As he turned the corner by the garage, it began to feel as though his legacy was one of failure. He failed to defeat Hydra. He failed to save Pietro, he failed to go back for Wanda, and, more than once, he failed to find Bucky. He hadn’t done enough to help the people in New York, and Sokovia, and Lagos. He hadn’t stopped Rumlow, leaving his friend to solve the problem and take the blame that should have been his. She looked to him for guidance—she had even gone so far as to save his life—and all he’d been able to do was turn away, and stammer some more orders, and run inside the building that should never have collapsed in the first place.

Steve’s rhythm faltered. Ross’ visit made it all too clear that he wasn’t a leader at all; he was still just a kid from Brooklyn who, in trying to do a good thing, got in over his head. But once again, Steve wasn’t sure what the right thing was anymore; he thought he knew, but then his comfortable rhythm shifted again and he was thrown into unfamiliar territory. And this time, he couldn’t ask the person who’d always been able to point him in the right direction.

_ You were meant for more than this, you know _ . 

Coming to a halt between the circle of trees and the training field, Steve pulled his compass out of his pocket. Peggy’s picture was faded, its edges crumpled and torn where he’d pushed it into the compass’ lid almost eighty years ago. Though she wasn’t smiling, Steve could see her telltale smirk light up her eyes and pull at the corner of her mouth. It was the same look she’d given him when he’d retrieved the flag at base camp in 1943 and the last look she’d given him as he’d said goodbye the last time he'd seen her.

Steve cleared his throat, but it still felt tight; though he tried to focus on his breath, it was becoming harder to pull air into his lungs. In an attempt to feel somewhat more stable, he sat down and rested his head on his hand. Looking up, Steve tried to imagine his childhood stars hidden in the modern New York sky. 

“What now, Peggy,” he asked, his voice breaking at the sound of her name. And though he waited patiently, he never heard her reply.

The Sokovia Accords lay heavy in Wanda’s hands, their pages soft against her worn, calloused palms. In her sleepless state, she’d tried reading the thick document, attempting to understand the exact parameters and regulations being proposed. She hadn’t gotten far, however, when the legal jargon contorted into something beyond her comprehension. Not that it mattered. She knew the basic premise of the document. She didn’t need to understand the exact words when she understood with perfect clarity her own role in the Accords’ creation.

How long before Lagos had this document first been conceptualized? It must have been after their namesake: Sokovia. And if anyone was responsible for what happened there, it was her. She was the only one left to blame—Ultron was dead, his metal heart crushed in her hands, no one would ever blame Stark, and Pietro… well, she wasn’t about to blame him.

Sighing, Wanda set down the Accords and held out her hands. She traced every line on her palms, examining each scar and imperfection. As a red haze formed, the young woman twisted the light around her fingers. She watched carefully as it pulsed and glowed and followed her every instruction. She was in control. At least, it was easy to pretend she was in control. The document beside her pointed to the contrary.

Maybe all of this was inevitable. Maybe she  _ should _ just sign the Accords and get it over with. 

_ What if this panel sends us somewhere we don’t think we should go? What if there’s somewhere we need to go, and they don’t let us? _

Shaking her head, Wanda pushed the Accords further away, stood up, and walked out of her room. She needed some space to think things through, and during her many other sleepless nights, she often walked around the Compound as a way to gain perspective. She’d find herself in the gym, or the living room, or, one time, on the roof. Usually, she’d make her way to the kitchen for a glass of water before going outside to be close to Pietro. He’d always been good to talk to, and although she didn’t expect him to answer anymore, talking to him still seemed to help.

The Compound was dark, but the young woman found her way around the building with ease. As she passed each Avenger’s bedroom, she could feel all but one of them sound asleep and lost in dreams. Though she hated to admit it, she’d been inside most of their heads more times than she could count since she’d joined the team. She still didn’t trust Stark, and after reading his thoughts, she knew the feeling was mutual. Natasha and Vision—though she was on decent terms with both of them—were impossible to read without entering their thoughts. And though she trusted everyone else, there was a certain safety and familiarity in getting lost in another person’s world. She knew she needed to stop—not just for their sakes, but for her own. Pietro didn’t like her living other people’s lives. Regardless, she continued to wade through her teammates’ thoughts, and dreams, and fears.

Wanda pulled a glass down from the cupboard. She was about to fill it with water when she saw Steve sitting alone outside. She didn’t need to enter his mind to know he was just as confused and afraid and alone as she was. Besides, even if she didn’t understand, he was the one person she refused to read in that way. Maybe it was because they’d gotten to know each other so well; what had started out as mandatory training had quickly turned into a daily activity with Steve she looked forward to. Maybe it was because she trusted and looked up to him more than any of her other teammates; there was something about their conversation on Christmas Eve that made Wanda think of Steve as less of a teammate and more of a friend. Or maybe it was because, when she’d hexed him a year ago for the first and only time, what she  _ had _ seen was too heartbreaking to see again without him knowing. He was the closest—maybe the only—friend she had; why would she do anything to hurt him?

The door creaked as she stepped outside, the humidity hitting her with full force. Steve turned a little to look at her, but he didn’t seem surprised.

She didn’t say anything as she sat next to him. Instead, Wanda looked at the circle of trees that guarded her brother, then at the compass, still open in her Captain’s hand. She didn’t need to ask who the woman was. She’d seen her before in the only hex she’d ever placed on Steve and in some of his old photographs and newspaper clippings. Looking at Steve’s watery, puffy eyes, it wasn’t hard for Wanda to guess why he had left their team meeting so abruptly earlier that afternoon.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Steve asked after a moment of silence. 

Wanda shook her head in reply, the familiarity of the situation not lost on her. “You?”

“No,” Steve replied with a small smile. “I don’t sleep much anymore.”

They sat together quietly for hours, both comfortable in each other’s silence. They watched each thin, grey cloud drift overhead, and they listened to the crickets and cicadas sing. Occasionally, they felt a light, humid wind blow lazily past, gently brushing the trees aside as it flowed over the Compound. 

The sun had not yet started to rise when Steve broke the silence. “I’m sorry I put you in that position yesterday,” he said, looking straight ahead. “What happened… it’s my fault.”

“Don’t say that,” Wanda replied, not wanting the man beside her to hold any of her blame. He had enough weight to carry. He didn’t need to take responsibility for her failings as well as his own. “I thought we agreed it’s on both of us.”

Steve looked down at his hands. “It’s not, though, Wanda. You saved my life yesterday. I made a stupid mistake. I got comfortable. Complacent. But you? You didn’t forget about me; you looked for me, and you saved me. And I know it’s not enough, but I need you to know how sorry I am for all of this. I’m sorry, and I’m thankful, and I’m—”

“Steve,” Wanda cut him off. At the sound of his name, he turned to look at her, the same fear and sadness in his eyes from the day before when she’d first contained the bomb. “It’s okay,” she said, looking intently back at him. “It’s enough.”

For a moment, they just stared at each other, one unsure and the other reassuring. Wanda’s eyes softened, a small smile starting to form. Then, almost in tears, Steve pulled her into a hug. “Thank you,” he whispered, and both Avengers let out a long breath, slowly releasing some of the weight they each carried.

After another moment, Wanda pulled back to look at him. He nodded, trying to tell her that he would be okay, and she nodded in return. They’d both be okay. Eventually. 

As they turned to watch the horizon, she asked, “Do you remember my first night here? When we watched the sunrise?”

Steve smiled. “Yeah, I do,” he said, putting one arm around her shoulder and holding her close. 

Leaning her head against him, Wanda let out another sigh and closed her eyes. She felt Steve rest his head against her own. But neither of them saw the first morning light creep over the horizon. They were both sound asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you liked it, but if you have any thoughts, I'd love to hear them! Also, I'll try and post chapter 4 quicker than I posted this chapter :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda struggles with her time in the Raft, and in Wakanda, Steve struggles with his failures at the airport. This takes place in the week or two after Civil War ends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, this chapter was going to be longer, but I decided to break it up into two chapters. So on the bright side, I've already written some of chapter 5! On the downside, this chapter isn't even close to 100% uplifting.  
> It's still tough for both of our characters, particularly Wanda. It looked like she was being held in a different area of the prison or solitary confinement, and I couldn't find out how long she was held in the Raft. With all this in mind, I really wanted to show how just how alone she felt, and how easy it is to get lost in a downward spiral or overthink things in a situation like that. It's kind of dark and very sad. I didn't want to gloss over any of Wanda's trauma. I promise things will get happier in the next few chapters, but if any of you ever struggle with these feelings, please don't hesitate to reach out. Just like the world needs Wanda, the world needs you, too. I'll leave some resources in the notes at the end, and if you think I should change the rating to mature, please let me know.  
> Also, I wanted to say that I haven't watched WandaVision, but I might want to incorporate some of those elements into this story. I'd already started with the idea that Wanda watched old movies with her grandma, and since I heard that WandaVision introduced the idea that she watched TV with her family to learn English, I thought I could incorporate that.  
> As always, thank you so much for reading! I love reading all your comments, and honestly, it just makes my day that so many of you have continued reading this story. You're all amazing!
> 
> I don't own any of these characters. The characters and settings belong to Marvel and Disney. I also don't own any of the media I referenced in this chapter including It's a Wonderful Life and Frasier.

The industrial lights in Wanda’s cell flickered. Her restraints rubbed painfully against her wrists and ankles, biting into her skin through the thin blue jumpsuit. Although she tried shifting to ease the ache in her muscles, neither the straightjacket nor the shock collar allowed for much movement. Cold, dried sweat covered her face, dirt caked under her fingernails, and she could still hear a dull ringing in her ears from whatever new gadget Rhodey used against her in Germany. Underneath it all, her former teammate’s words echoed.

_ They can’t help but be afraid of you. They’ll never stop being afraid of you. _

As each long moment passed, Vision’s words gained a malicious credibility. Although he claimed otherwise, Wanda recalled how scared Vision was when she’d overpowered him at the Compound. She remembered the webbed kid’s unease as he bound her hands and Stark’s trepidation as he brought her to the helicarrier. She remembered the fear in the guards’ eyes and the shake in Ross’ voice as they locked her away. It was as though she were a wild animal; she felt their relief as they tightened her restraints and slammed the door to her cage. She didn’t need to enter any of their minds to know they were somewhat glad to be rid of her. 

_ They can’t help but be afraid of you. _

Wanda knew she couldn’t control their fear. But the longer she stared at the cameras, the more tired she grew of knowing that fear existed in the first place. Didn’t they know how lonely she was? Couldn’t any of them see beyond what the experiments had done to her? 

_ They’ll never stop being afraid of you. _

But they’d seen her unleashed power before. She was dangerous. Unpredictable. A time bomb. They were scared. And maybe rightfully so.

Wanda tried—and failed—to hug her knees closer to her chest, her eyes leaving the cameras in order to focus on the stone walls. Did her teammates ask that she be held in a different part of the Raft, or had a nameless government official given the order? Was everyone restrained, or was she the only one trapped in two cages? Were they as terrified and angry as she was? 

_ They can’t help but be afraid of you. _

What if she’d died on Sokovia instead of Pietro? What if Vision hadn’t saved her? He may not have been scared of her then, but she couldn’t deny that he was, at the very least, extremely wary of her now.

What if she’d been in control in Nigeria? Would they trust her more?

What if she’d been able to hold up that tower for a second longer, giving Steve and his friend another crucial moment in their escape? More importantly, did they escape? Where were they now? How long had she been in here?

_ They’ll never stop being afraid of you. _

What if this was it for her? Out of the small number of people who might save her, only Stark knew where she was being held, and she knew with certainty that he wouldn’t set her free. He hadn’t even been able to face her when he’d visited the prison. Not that she would have told him where Steve was anyway. 

And what about Steve? Had he found what he was looking for in Siberia? Did he die fighting those soldiers Bucky told him about? Or did he survive only to be captured by Ross and sent to a different prison far away? Maybe he escaped. Maybe he was looking for her and the others. Maybe…

_ They can’t help but be afraid of you. _

Maybe he was terrified of her. Maybe he wasn’t looking for her. Maybe their training sessions and late-night conversations meant nothing to him. And why should they? When they met, she was fighting for Hydra, the very organization he had spent his whole life trying to destroy. She had fought for the people who tortured his best friend—his only real family. What had she ever done to earn his trust? Why should she believe she was any more special to him than the Avengers (who he had known for years) that he had just fought against?

Closing her eyes, Wanda tried to ignore Vision’s words, but they continued to enter her thoughts, playing louder and louder with each repetition. For hours, she sat perfectly still. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was the rest of her life. 

The air in the gym was humid, the scent of sweat lingering heavily over the room. A dim, yellow light brightened only a small section of the space, leaving most of the equipment in darkness. Although the gym was just below ground-level, the steady beat of a thunderstorm echoed faintly under the pounding of Steve’s wrapped fists as they collided with a punching bag. His uniform—torn and stained and incomplete—lay forgotten in his room a few stories above him.

_ As much as I hate to admit it, if we’re gonna win this one, some of us might have to lose it. _

Once again, Steve had failed. In trying to right his greatest mistake, he’d only caused more damage, abandoning all but one of his teammates in a fight they couldn’t win. He hadn’t lost faith in any of them, but he had also read enough of the Accords to know what consequences he’d left them to deal with.

What did Clint’s wife and children think when he hadn’t come home? Was Scott’s daughter waiting patiently for him to kiss her goodnight? What had Sam thought as Rhodey—one of his closer friends in the Avengers—fell from the sky? Did he think of his late friend Riley? And what about Wanda? Had he freed her from one prison only to abandon her in one that was even worse?

_ She’s not a US citizen, and they don’t grant visas to weapons of mass destruction. _

Punching harder, Steve remembered Tony’s words. He knew they wouldn’t do too much to Clint or Scott because of their families, and Sam was a veteran who’d been trained in all of their interrogation techniques. But Wanda? What if Tony was right? What if they only saw Wanda as a weapon? Did any of them know that she wasn't much older than Steve had been when he'd joined the Army? Or that she liked the moon scene from It's a Wonderful Life? Or that she was the one he'd leaned on as he finally got the only real sleep he'd had since being pulled from the ice? 

_ I shouldn’t have left you behind. It’s my fault _ .

Hearing his own words, another wave of failure crashed over the soldier. Amidst angry, rapid bursts, the punching bag’s leather seams weakened. Images of Sokovia appeared in the space between himself and the equipment. Wanda’s scream echoed in his ears, and the weight of her brother’s body appeared in his arms. He’d left her behind again. He’d only wanted to do what was right, but he’d left her behind again. He'd left most of his team behind. He’d failed.

As T’Challa entered the room, the punching bag broke. Next to the mound of sand, the floor looked like an ocean, Steve’s weary face reflecting in it’s dark surface. 

“Sorry about the mess,” Steve said, wiping his face with a towel.

The Wakandan king answered with a kind smile. “You don’t have to worry about that, Captain. It’s easy enough to sweep up, and as you can see, we have more equipment if you need. But that’s for another day.”

With a look of concern and confusion, Steve turned to squarely face T’Challa. “Bucky?”

“No, I’m not here about him,” the King answered. “Our doctors believe they can help your friend, given time. They don’t have all the answers quite yet. They’ve told Barnes, but he has yet to decide what is best for him.” 

Steve nodded in response. If only he’d gone back to look for his best friend after he’d fallen the first time. Bucky hadn’t hesitated in pulling Steve from the Potomac. Why did Steve hesitate to return to the Alps all those years ago? And if he had gone back, would their time have been cut short anyway? Would Steve still have been lost in the ice for seventy years? Not that it should matter now. He couldn’t change any of it, and he’d gone back this time. So why couldn’t he lift the weight from his shoulders?

Noticing how the Captain’s eyes lost focus, T’Challa tried to refocus his new ally with good news. “What I came here to tell you is that we’ve found your friends. Your information from the Accords documents and your long hours spent searching have finally provided results.”

Steve’s tired eyes hardened, and a look of determination covered the weariness etched into his face. “Thank you,” he replied. 

Without hesitation, both men strode out of the gym and towards the aircraft bay. As he brought Steve to the best plane for the job, T’Challa asked, “Do you need your uniform, Captain?”

Although his feet didn’t falter, there was a long silence while Steve tried to formulate a reply. “No, that’s okay” he said, his words filled with an uncertain finality.

Sensing Steve’s unease, but unaware of its source, T’Challa tried to offer a path forward. “When you return, you are welcome to stay in Wakanda as long as you wish. You are a good soldier and a determined leader, and there will always be a place for you among Wakanda’s best Generals.”

Despite thanking the King once again, Steve remained lost in thought. As he flew towards the Raft, Steve pulled his compass out of his pocket and set it on the console in front of him, just as he had seventy years earlier. Peggy smirked back at him from her place above the compass needle, which bobbed slightly up and down. Although his future was still unclear, a sense of calm eased some of the weight on his shoulders. He had gone back for Bucky, and now he was going back for the rest of his team. Even if it didn’t erase his initial mistake, and even if his future remained hazy, he knew he was moving in the right direction.

The lights in Wanda’s cell never dimmed, making it impossible to differentiate day from night. A heavy, uneasy silence filled the small space, broken only by the soft electrical hum of the lights and the cameras. Each time she moved, her restraints further irritated the burns on her throat, wrists, and ankles; eventually, it became easier not to move at all. Instead, Wanda stared at a point just in front of the grey stone wall, her gaze unfocused. The vague understanding that the world continued to turn hovered at the back of her mind, but Wanda remained suspended in a space outside of time. And though days passed by, she entertained no thoughts about the present or the future. She only stared at the wall—a movie screen that allowed her to replay the past in as many scenarios as it took to get it right.

The first scene in the movie of Wanda’s memories took place under her bed in her childhood home. She could still feel Pietro’s arm around her, holding her close as much for his sake as for her own. She tried to match her breathing to his, but the panic always returned. Her breath became shorter, more frantic and uneven. Sweat coated her palms and stained her clothes. The dust from the rubble drifted into her nose and eyes, and although her tears blurred her vision, the name on the shell—STARK—lingered in crisp, bold letters.

She wanted to move. Every muscle screamed in pain, but she couldn’t relax. She couldn’t turn to look at her brother’s face. She didn’t want to speak, let alone breathe, in fear that the smallest shift would kill both her and Pietro. The only thing she could do was close her eyes, but upon imagining her parents in the rubble below, she decided to keep her eyes open.

As the first scene faded to black, another scene began in another Sokovian apartment. An old Christmas wreath hung on the door, dry and dead and falling apart. In the streets below, Christmas carollers' songs blended with rioter’s shouts in a discordant harmony. Though the windows were closed, their voices rang clearly through the apartment; no matter how much she turned up the volume on her Baba’s VHS player. 

“You know,” the old woman said in a soft, ailing voice, “Your grandpa told me he’d get me the moon. He died not long before your mama was born. I suppose I’ll die not long after your mama.”

The air grew colder as the young woman absorbed her Baba’s words. Taking her grandmother’s hand in her own, Wanda tried to lose herself in the movie as she had done every year. But the panic burned as it rose in her throat, and her fingernails carved half-moons into her palm as she clenched her fist. No matter how much she wanted to live someone else’s life—no matter how much she wanted to get lost in the romance of moon lassoes and Bedford Falls—Wanda couldn’t ignore the sounds of the world outside the window.

But then Sokovia was gone, replaced by a standard-issue room at the Avengers Compound. In an attempt to quiet her mind and fill the aching silence, Wanda turned on the TV. After flipping through the channels, she found a show her father loved so much he used it to help their family learn English. Despite the welcome noise, the night dragged on, each moment filled with endless memories, and what ifs, and images of Pietro. 

As much as she wanted to keep Pietro close, she could only see the faded image of his lifeless eyes, his blood still spreading in circles over his silver shirt—an image she desperately wanted to forget.

_ If you stay here, you’ll die. _

She was still here. Ultron killed Pietro, and she killed Ultron, but she was still here.

And now, she was left to wonder why. She hadn’t wanted to leave Sokovia. She’d made peace with dying on the same land as her Baba, and her parents, and her brother. She’d waited patiently for the darkness to take her where she might see her family again.

And then a single phrase appeared out of the haze, pulling Wanda from her thoughts.

_ “And then I would have said… ‘What are you doing for the rest of your life?’” _

Although her situation was nothing like the TV character’s, his hypothetical question in a hypothetical scenario became the most real, solid thing the only living Maximoff could hold onto. What  _ was _ she supposed to do with the rest of her life? She had been given a second chance, whether she deserved it or not. But would any of the others in the Compound give her that chance? And if they did, what did she  _ want _ to do with the rest of her life? What would Pietro have done? 

And then her room faded, and a sunrise formed, a vivid display of color against the blank slate of the prison wall. 

_ I shouldn’t have left you behind _ . 

His voice was even and tired and filled with a familiar weight. She hugged herself against the morning chill, and he shoved his hands deep into his pockets. And though neither of them said anything while the sun rose above the trees, the silence was less painful with someone beside her.

“Wanda?”

Looking up in surprise, Wanda watched as Steve stepped through her cell door. 

“Oh, thank God,” he said as he walked towards her, making a quick sign of the cross.

Wanda continued to stare at the man in front of her, unsure if this was reality or if she was lost in another dream. Although she could hear him saying something as he undid her restraints, she couldn’t process his exact words. Her eyes refocused on her immediate surroundings, and her thoughts returned to the present. “Steve,” she asked. Her voice, though shaky, was filled with a timid joy. “You came back.”

At the sound of his name, Steve’s eyes softened. “Yeah, Wanda” he replied, holding her face for a moment before helping her to her feet. “Now, come on. Let’s get out of here” he continued, leading her out of the cell towards the waiting helicopter. “Everyone else is heading for the plane already, and I’m not leaving you behind. Not again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-TALK (8255)  
> National Suicide Prevention Online Lifeline Chat: https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/chat/  
> SAMHSA Treatment Referral Helpline: 1-877-SAMHSA7 (1-877-726-4727)


End file.
